


What's wrong with you? Hanahaki of course!

by SadSkeleton



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Comic Book Violence, Deadpool being Deadpool, Fantastic Four Cameos, Hanahaki Disease, Insecure Wade Wilson, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Non-Graphic Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Swearing, Tags Are Hard, The Avengers Are Good Bros, The Avengers are there, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love, WHAAAAT, but it turns out ok, clearly, i think, maybe the x men, robots were harmed in the making, unless..., wade being understanding?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28801290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadSkeleton/pseuds/SadSkeleton
Summary: Peter Parker gets dropped off at his aunt and uncle's house like an unwanted dog. He's left with a hole in his heart and flowers in his lungs, doesn't resent his parents though. He treasures the flowers they left him before they are taken away.As the years pass Peter cultivates a vast garden in his chest and an ache in his heart. He never resents this, he's happy to have the flowers, happy that he can love people even when they don't love him. Enter Wade Wilson. Just when Peter is sure that he can live the rest of his life just as it is, content that he has people to love, content to love, even without its return, in comes Deadpool. Deadpool with his swords and guns and tacos and surprising insights and humor and giving Peter flowers. Flowers in his lungs and next to his heart and for the first time it hurts.It hurts to cough up flowers for Wade. Peters heart aches, his throat hurts and for first time in his life he resents the flowers that fall from his mouth. Resents the one who gave them to him. Peter will keep going though, he's never needed to be loved back, why should that change now?
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	1. Poor Peter Parker with the Broken Heart

Peter knows about Hanahaki. Had it actually. He knows about the different kinds of Hanahaki one can contract, the different subcategories of the disease and the specific flowers that bloomed for each one. It isn’t an exact science, as love is a complicated, multifaceted thing and the flowers that bloom along ribs, inside the lungs, and beside the heart reflect that. Not everyone who contracts Hanahaki dies, most forms of the disease are pretty manageable or easily removed. Many people have low grade Hanahaki, a few small flowers, the kind that often fades on its own. Things like time and distance weakening feels and wilting the flowers until they are gone. These are often platonic loves, unrequited feelings of friendship or wishing for someone to be your mentor. Love that is not being _in love_ with the person, wanting them in your life, wanting them around you. That had been Peter’s problem, when he contracted Hanahaki the first time. He was only eight, he wasn’t in love with anyone, but he did love someone who couldn’t love him back.

His parents had left him behind in a fit of youthful selfishness to be raised by his aunt and uncle. It hadn't been fair to anyone, not to him who was left behind by the people who were supposed to protect him and not to his aunt and uncle. His uncle was his father’s older brother by over a decade, uncle Ben had been off to college, working and living on his own when Peter’s father Richard was born. When Richard himself got married and had a kid Ben was already nearing his fifties. So in turn when Richard and Mary dropped their five year old off with little explanation Ben and May had their lives pretty nailed down, taking care of their nephew threw their life in complete disarray. Not to mention what it did to Peter, being uprooted near the end of the school year and dropped off in the middle of the night in a different city. Peter loved his parents, like all children do, but they weren’t there to love him back. Peter spent first grade loving people that weren’t there and hoping they’d come back to get him. He started spitting up lilacs at the beginning of the second grade, as the year went on gardenias, hydrangeas, yellow roses joined the bouquet that made up Peter’s unrequited love for his parents. That summer he was the first to know of his parent’s deaths. The white calla lily he coughs up at the park was obvious enough, the flowers that followed confirm his fears. Peter walked home with the flowers cradled in his hands. He came in through the back door into the kitchen. Ben was just hanging up the phone while May sunk into a chair, hand over her mouth. They both turned to him at the sound of the door shutting. Peter wordlessly held the mess of flowers out to them, calla lilies and red carnations falling from his fingers. Calla lily, red carnation, morning glory, yellow rose, daylily, daffodil, yellow carnation, petunia. 

Peter had a Hanahaki surgery when he was a couple weeks into third grade. To rid his body of the unrequited love for his dead parents. The doctor explained why they had to take the flowers out and why they hadn’t done so sooner. They had believed that once his parents came home that the Hanahaki would take care of itself, recede and wilt away with the presence of his parents, with the return of their love. Peter didn’t bother telling them that the Hanahaki would never have shown up if his parents loved him in the first place, if they had never left him behind. Peter’s young, but he’s not stupid, he knows that very few people under ten get Hanahaki and he knows that it wouldn’t have shown up so close to his parents departure if they had loved him. Now, however, with his parents dead the love he has for them will never be returned and the flowers will only become more and more aggressive if left to grow. The bouquet is already quite big, nearly ten different flowers, the flowers will turn more and more sour in their meanings and temperament if they are not removed. What was once a relatively harmless case of Hanahaki is now a death sentence, albeit a slow growing one. 

Peter didn’t feel any different after the surgery was over. His throat was sore and his stitches pulled at his chest, but he didn’t feel any different. He spent five days total out of school, Mary Jane drops off his homework and takes it upon herself to fill him in on the goings on at school. Apparently Flash misses him, Claire(the kid that sits behind Peter) has failed every test and quiz since he’s been gone, and some kid started a rumour that Peter died. Flash cried and punched the kid in the face. Peter mostly sits quietly through these gossip sessions, smiling and nodding, until Mary Jane leaves. Peter likes Mary Jane but they hadn’t really been friends, Peter hates pity, so if that's why she’s decided to hang out with him she can forget it. Plus he’s been tired lately, his chest aches and he feels lonely in a way he can’t explain. It's like he's alone in his own skin for the first time. He didn’t understand until he took a picture of his parents out from under his bed. He knows who they are when he sees their faces on the shining paper but he didn’t _feel_ anything. He didn't understand, he'd looked at a picture of his dead parents and he didn't _feel anything._

Peter took the picture downstairs where his aunt uncle sat in the kitchen.

“Why don’t I feel anything?” It's clear enough that he’d startled them.

“Oh, Peter dear, what are you doing out of bed?” It'd only been three days since the surgery and with his fist follow up that day he’s been too tired to do much.

“Why don’t I feel anything anymore?”

“Peter, what are you talking about?” Uncle Ben came to the table from the sink.

“I can’t feel anything no matter how long I look or what picture I look at.” He handed his aunt the picture of his parents, they’re on their honeymoon, posing with the Golden Gate bridge in the background. Mary in a loose white dress and Richard in a red Hawaiian shirt with yellow flowers. “I know who they are but I don’t _feel_ anything.”

“Oh, oh _Peter_.” 

It turned out that the doctors hadn’t done a very good job of explaining what the removal surgery would actually do. Peter had understood that the flowers would be removed from his system, what he hadn’t understood was that the flowers would be taken whole from his body. All the flowers, stems, roots would be taken from the slopes between his ribs, the valleys behind his lungs, everything that the flowers were would be removed from wherever they were. With them the love he had felt for his parents would go too. Peter vowed then and there, sitting in a too bright doctor's office(the walls are painted in pastels and flowers and happy little animals and Peter wants to puke) on paper and stiff blue rubber that he’s never going to let this happen again. He’s never going to let other people dictate how he feels, about who he feels it for, he’s never going to let anyone take his flowers away from him again.


	2. Enter, Stage Left, Wade Wilson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I should probably have the meanings(or at least the meaning I'm using) of the flowers listed. I didn’t want to gunk up the actual story with that though so I’ll put the meanings by appearance in the authors note at the bottom. I’ll include the ones from ch 1! Also sorry for any tense issues, I try to keep it consistent. Ch 3 is gonna take just a little longer too, I started writing it and might hate everything I've written, happens ya know?

Spiderman is perhaps New York’s most prolific super. Okay that's probably not true, he’s small time he knows that. The Avengers(some of them anyway) and the Fantastic Four live here, so like how “prolific” can he be with competition like that? He, however, likes to think of himself as a “fan favorite” of sorts. He keeps himself out of the limelight for the most part, not that he doesn’t have his own rogues gallery, but he’s the one on the streets, a hero with his feet on the ground, a man of the people. It's all a fancy way of saying that while he takes on Doc Ock or Electro a couple times a year he still helps old ladies cross the street and gets kittens out of storm drains. Overall, it's a good gig, the Avengers call him to team up sometimes, he hangs out with Johnny Storm, he’s tight with Daredevil, and he has a job at Oscorp. Wholesale, Peter’s life is going pretty good. This is reflected, in his opinion, by the flowers he coughs up. Peter coughs up flowers almost constantly. He has a flower for almost everyone he knows and he treasures each and every one. He coughs up at least two carnations everyday, a yellow and a red striped. Cyclamen and daffodil come up from his throat often enough. These he understands with aching familiarity. Some of the other flowers he’s collected over the years confuse him, begonia, daisy, and gladioli confuse him, he doesn’t always know who the flowers come from so their meanings are sometimes lost on him. Others that he coughs up at random intervals are all too obvious though, geranium, hyacinth(purple and yellow in turns), marigold, orange mock, and petunia. He knows these flowers and the feelings they represent with terrible certainty. He keeps lists of the bouquets he coughs up, the lone blooms and leaves that flutter from his lips. There’s a small notebook in his Spiderman suit so he can write down the flowers he coughs up over the course of his patrols. He doesn’t let it weigh too heavy on him, for him the flowers are signs that he can still love. That his heart wasn’t eternally damaged by the unrequited love of his parents and its subsequent removal, damaged by the death of the man who raised him at his own hands. He treasures the blooms, thorns and all, presses them into scrapbooks with the pictures of the people he loves and doesn’t tell anyone.  
Peter is not ashamed of his Hanahaki. A lot of people have Hanahaki or get it in their lives. Most people just don’t cultivate it the way Peter does. He keeps his heart wide open, allowing himself to make connections with people like it's going out of style. He breathes calm acceptance and keeps himself approachable. He almost considers it a little victory when he coughs up some little blossom after talking to someone. Often its friends at school, the cashier he sees on the regular, people he says are his friends. They aren’t, he barely knows them, but he loves them anyway and the flowers prove it. Prove that he can still love(his heart is full of it), that he can still do good(all good deeds come from a place of love, he read that once), that he isn’t irreparably damaged. 

\-------  
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAA!” Peter’s screams quickly turn to laughing in the midst of fighting killer HYDRA robots. The Hulk has been smashing through them at a steady place as Peter spins webs to funnel them away from the running civilians and back towards the real action. Spiderman and the Hulk make a surprisingly good team, chalk it up to Pete’s immaturity and Hulk’s love of smashing, throwing, and chasing(it kinda of like a kid with too much energy and an excitable dog). So when Cap calls out for back up a few streets over, the Hulk happily flings Spiderman into the air to give him a head start on the swinging. As he falls through the air he snaps his arm out and shoots a web to arch his descent in the right direction. Seeing what Cap is up against, on the high ground(a pile of robots) but becoming overwhelmed, Peter straightens himself out and points his feet. Shooting out two new webs he redirects his trajectory again and, like an arrow from a bow, Spiderman descends straight and true unto the head of a robot halfway up Cap’s impressive pile.

Crashing down on robots is never very comfortable but at least he’s landing on his feet and not on his back, or his head. When his feet connect he starts to loosen his joints, bend his knees, release his arms from his sides, and unlock the tension in his neck and shoulders. The robot crumples beneath him as he lands, bouncing lightly on his toes in a crouch.

“Hey Cap! Thought you might need a helping hand!” At this he flings both his arms out, webbing two robots and bringing them crashing together under him as he jumps again, landing on their smashed bodies in another crouch.

“O! M! G! TWO SUPERHERO LANDINGS!!” A voice rings out over the clatter of metal and general chaos. Peter sees Cap’s face harden between punching robots in the face. As Peter himself webs them together, punches and kicks he catches sight of a red and black figure slicing the robots in half at the bottom of the pile. 

The fight continues pretty normally after that. He helps Cap get a handle on his growing mountain of robo-corpses then swings up to keep the ones still moving close by. The rest of the Avengers show up slowly to the intersection where Cap stands atop Mt. Dead Robot(ok gotta work on that Parker) and Mr. Tall With the Swords is skipping around stabbing downed robots. Cap slides down Metal Mountain(that was better), heavily patting his shoulder as he heads for Mr. Dual Swords. Hawkeye drops out of Ironman’s hold as they land nearby. Spiderman waves as he walks over to offer help with the clean up. He’s done so before and they always say no but he was raised to be polite and it was the least he could anyway. Besides, they might not think so but the Avengers are his friends, so anytime spent with them is time well spent. Black Widow comes sauntering out of an alleyway just as Spiderman is coming within good speaking distance of the growing group of supers. 

“Hello hello super people!” Peter can feel the eyeroll as Ironman tilts his head back and Hawkeye smiles. “Everybody have a good time? We really seemed to push these guys’ buttons!”

Hawkeye has the courtesy to snort at the pun while Ironman actively groans and Widow shakes her head with a smirk. These are the expected reactions, what he hadn't counted on was the boisterous laugh that accompanied his own chuckling. Peter snaps his head over to where the sound came from, finding Cap, arms crossed, talking to Two Swords. Peter tilts his head at the pair. Swords has a loose posture, hands on his hips while Cap is stiff, shoulders tense and chin tucked. 

“Hey who is-” Peter’s spine snaps straight as his Spider Sense™ buzzes about his body. It’s not full on alarm but something is coming. He spins around as Hulk comes lumbering between a few buildings down the street. Peter lets his shoulders bounce out of their tensed state as he throws his fists up a little. Peter really does love ole’ Mean and Green. He loves Dr. Banner too, but Hulk actually seems to like Spiderman, so a selfish little part of him likes Hulk just a little bit better than Dr. Banner. The Hulk is moving pretty slow so he must be tired out, ready to hand control back over to Banner, yet he seems to be looking for something. Probably looking for us so Banner won’t have to walk through the ruble.

“Yo! Big guy! Over here!” 

“Woah Spiderman, he’s gon-” 

Hulk’s head swivels over to the group and straightens from his normal hunched position. Spiderman starts stepping away from the group and waving his arms over his head. Hulk, clearly taking the greeting for what it was, starts rushing towards them. Spiderman laughs because while he doesn’t think Hulk is stupid like someone seem to, the big guy often acts like a kid. Besides, Hulk at his core, is the same as Bruce Banner. Not a completely separate being like some people think. They are for the most part the same, just the Hulk is the parts of Banner he didn’t like about himself and thus repressed, but it wasn’t a complete split, Banner could be plenty immature when he wanted to be. Anger was just the part of himself that Banner hated most so the whole Hulk split latched onto that most and now Banner has to hold himself together nearly every time he stubs a toe. Ok so it’s not that bad but still. The only other thing that seems to be completely split between the two is Hulk’s regard for Spiderman. Banner seems to tolerate him for the most part, respected his scientific mind maybe, but that’s it. Peter still loved him, coughs up candytuft, daffodil, clematis, and columbine for him. The Hulk on the other hand, actively seeks out Spiderman’s company. Spiderman laughs as Green and Mean comes to a skidding halt in front of him. 

“Hey man, wassup? Have a smashing good time?” At the very least the Hulk never puts Spiderman down for his puns. 

“Spider.” Hulk’s huge hand comes to rest on Spiderman’s head. Spiderman pushes the massive appendage off his head with both hands. Hulk puts a little more pressure on the hands pushing at his palm, bending down to look at the man underneath. Spiderman just laughs, even with his arms stretched straight up like this, they came to like half of Hulk’s height. He bounces on his toes, trying to goad Hulk into a playful toss or two. Swinging's great but being thrown a couple thousand feet straight in the air is really something else. 

“Spider hurt?”

“What’s that big guy?” Spiderman asks, peeking up at the furrowed face of Hulk.

“Spider hurt, Hulk throw hurt Spider?”

“Woah big guy, whaddya talking about?” Spiderman steps out from under Hulk’s hand as Widow walks up to them.

“He’s right, Spiderman.” She points down at his left thigh. Sure enough his thigh is a mess of cuts and drying blood.

“Oh! No! Robots did this!” Spiderman looks up at Hulk. “No foul man, you didn’t hurt me, I’m ok!” He flashes two thumbs in front of Hulk’s face, or as close to as he can come. “Can’t even feel it!” He slaps his thigh to prove the point Widow actively grimaces.

“You should really have that looked at.” With her eyes trained on his leg, brows so delicately furrowed, he can pretend to see the concern in them while he feels the telltale tickle at the back of his throat.

“HAHA!” Oh, too much Parker. “Looks like I really can’t help you clean up this time then, haha!” Omg Parker pull it together, stop yelling! He was going to cough, he could feel it. “Got a sweet date with the med kit, ha!” He's able to cover the cough pretty well with the laugh. Sweeping his tongue through his mouth he catches the flower and tucks it between his cheek and his molars. 

“You could come back to the tower with us, get real stitches.” If she keeps talking like this he was going to have to cough for real and he couldn’t handle the questions or the pity to follow. Besides, he's pretty sure the bleeding has stopped or it will soon.

“No no, you know me,” he’s backing away before even formulating a good excuse, “paranoia and all that. Super secret identity and all. I’ll patch myself up and-” As he turns he runs right into Hulk, who wraps the much smaller male in his arms. The tickle at the back of Spiderman’s throat is much too much. Not him too. Luckily wrapped up in Hulk’s massive frame the cough is lost, he tucks this flower in his other cheek and wriggles up out of Hulk’s arms and climbs onto his shoulders.

“Spider come with Hulk?”

“No, big guy, thanks. I’ll be ok.” His voice is soft before he stands and turns to the others, Swords and Cap have joined Ton-Ironman and Hawkeye. “Ok! Good fight! Fun time! I gotta go! See you at the next one!” He salutes, as his arm arches away from his head he shoots a web and lets it carry him away. Ignoring Ironman’s yell of “Hey! Wait!” and someone yelling “DAT AAAASSSS!”

\--------

Peter touches down several blocks away where he has a backpack hidden in the fancy eves of a bank. He reaches over the side of the roof and rips the webbed up bag out of it’s nook. Throwing the backpack on he webs a couple blocks closer to home before dropping into an alley. Carefully inspecting the cuts on his leg he finds that he had been right earlier, the blood was all dry and the cuts aren’t very deep. He’s thankful for the pseudo-exoskeleton he has. It’s one of the many things he hasn’t completely figured out about his mutation. It’s more of a thick cuticle really, like extra layers of skin that are only semi hard, like elephant skin but not wrinkly. Downside of course is that like once or twice a year he has to shed his fucking skin. It had been worse when he was younger, he had to shed like every month then, but! The upside is that he is much less likely to get sliced open on the battlefield. Pretty even trade, all things considered. Removing his boots, gloves, and mask he quickly replaces them with the street clothes in the pack. Heading for the street, stopping to lean against the mouth of the alleyway. 

Leaning on the alley wall he digs into the wrist of the suit under his shirt. Once he has pulled out the tiny notebook that holds the lists of Spiderman’s Hanahaki Bouquets. It’s more than half full and this is the second one this year. Flipping to a new page he takes the tiny pencil out of the binding and digs Widow’s flower out of his right cheek. Peony petals. He heaves a sigh, that made sense, he’d been hurt in battle again of course she’d be ashamed of him. He had been on a pretty good steak recently too, a steak of not making a fool of himself in front of the Avengers. Looks like that's over with again. He quickly scratches out the flower and who it was for, pressing the petals into the pages and flipping to another page. He doesn’t always keep the flowers in the note books, most of the time they’re too big, but it pains him to throw them away. He digs up into his left cheek for Hulk’s flower. In all the years he had known the Avengers he had never coughed flowers for the Hulk. The Hulk was probably the only person he had never had flowers for, it hurt to have them now. What had he done to make the Hulk take his love away from Spiderman? Evening primrose, well that made sense too he supposed, even if he’s still confused about its sudden appearance. 

Sighing, he presses Hulk’s first flower into the notebook alongside what he’s written and bucks his body forward off the wall. He has reports to write for accounting that are due at the end of the week and left over Chinese that is calling his name. He slides the notebook back into his suit and tries to keep his eyes from straying to every person who coughs on the sidewalk. He had coughed up a flower for the Hulk, that was fine, the one person he was ninety nine percent sure felt the same friendship for him that he did for them was gone. Well, gone in a very abstract sense. Hulk was still Peter’s friend, still Spiderman’s friend, even if he was no longer the Hulk’s. He had been through more painful Hanahaki bouts. The first time he coughed up a flower for Harry he had cried himself to sleep, for like a whole week. This is different since really the Hulk is a work associate, a day or two and he’ll be well over this. He’ll be completely over it. Before he even sees the Hulk again. He’ll be so over it.

Unlocking his door to his dark, quiet apartment brings back a familiar ache in his chest. He often thinks of moving back in with aunt May, for more than just the company, but he knows that he’d be coughing up yellow zinnias, yellow carnations, purple hyacinth, and marigolds everyday. He coughs up a flower everyday as it is but he doesn’t think he could handle coughing up whole bouquets everyday. And if aunt May saw him, she’d insist on another surgery and he wouldn’t be able to handle that either. He kicks his door closed and starts shedding his various clothes and belongings. He stops to lean against the kitchen peninsula that separates it from his living room, breathing deep and even. Staving off the cry-fest he was sure to have later, but later. Right now he wanted to try to block out the sounds of the city and the apartments around him, stewing in his own self pity. Right now he doesn’t want to think about just how many plants reside in his chest cavity or about how Hulk doesn’t like him anymore, or about how he’s let aunt May down again and again and again. Just for a moment he wants to think about himself. Have a quiet, selfish moment to think about himself, how sorry he is for himself. Of course the quiet moment has to be ruined by the tickle in his throat, no ones even here, who would he be coughing for? The cough is wetter than usual but he doesn’t try to repress it like he usually would. Craning his neck to open his airways he lets the cough over take him, with two full bodied coughs the wet flower lands on the counter top. Fungus flower. His brows furrowed as he looks at the wet, limp flower. He’s never coughed one of these up before. Indian pipe they’re called, white all around, sometimes pinkish on the stems, with little layered bells on the tops. Non Photosynthetic, dependent on other plants and fungus for nutrients, a symbol of resilience, loneliness, solitude, and disgust. The stem is much softer than other flowers and his spit makes it extra slimy, he picks the bloom as gently as he can. He still crushes the stem between his fingers. Disgust. Peter can’t hold back the tears any longer. So cradling the strange little bloom to his chest he sinks to the floor to cry in his still dark apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Another chapter! I'm trying to keep the chapters sort of short, so they they are easy to to read, unfortunately that means that this fic might be kinda long, definitely more than five chapters, like closer to ten for sure, so strap in! Here are the promised flower meanings from chapters one and two(listed in order of appearance, so there'll be repeats to cover my bases and sometimes flower meanings change based on what else in is a bouquet!), I'll put these lists at the end of every chapter from now on! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Chapter 1 flowers=  
> Lilac- childhood innocence  
> Gardenias- children, family, sweet love  
> Hydrangeas- strong feelings for family, heartlessness  
> Yellow roses- fatherly love  
> White calla lily- death, funerals  
> Red carnation- funerals flower, missing the dead  
> Morning glory- mortality  
> Yellow rose- fatherly love  
> Day lily- mother, motherhood  
> Daffodil- unrequited love  
> Yellow carnation- disappointment, rejection  
> Petunia- resentment, anger
> 
> Chapter 2 flowers=  
> Yellow carnation- rejection  
> Red stripped carnation- refusal  
> Cyclamen- resignation, goodbye  
> Daffodil- unrequited love  
> Begonia- beware  
> Daisy- I'll never tell  
> Gladioli- give me a break  
> Geranium- stupidity, folly  
> Hyacinth purple- please forgive me, sorrow  
> Hyacinth yellow- jealousy  
> Marigold- grief  
> Orange mock- deceit  
> Petunia- resentment  
> Candytuft- indifference  
> Daffodil- regard, unrequited love  
> Columbine- foolishness  
> Clematis- mental beauty  
> Peony petals- shame  
> Evening primrose- inconstancy  
> Yellow zinnias- daily remembrance  
> Purple hyacinth- sorrow  
> Marigolds- despair, grief  
> Fungus flower- disgust


	3. Introductions are Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what i had planned for ch 3 was getting really lengthy so i cut it in half, we meet deadpool properly now. I have an actual plan for this fic now, i wrote down an outline and everything!

“AAAWWWW, c'mon man, I didn’t even get the chance to say hi!” Deadpool turned away from watching Spiderman swing to pout at Cap. Who has his back facing Deadpool to properly address the other Avengers.

{DAT ASS}

[Shut up, we’re supposed to be in love with Spidey here!]

{But it’s America’s ass}

“Yeah buzz off Yellow! You know as well as I do what the readers came here for!”

“Deadpool.” Right, right. Captain America, America’s Ass, talking to him...about what again?

“Sorry there Cap! I missed out on some of that, what's the deal? Thanking me for the assist, yeah?” Deadpool popped his hip out and tilted his head, “Hey! Ass! ASSist, we sure talk a lot about ass this chapter, you think it's too soon to squeeze up on-”

“DEADPOOL!!”

“Tinman!” Deadpool whirls around to face Stark instead. “Reporting for duty sir!”

“And you wonder why we kept you away from Spiderman.” Tinman shakes his head and recrosses his arms.

[When did they get uncrossed?]

{Dude, when he was screaming at us probably, make him stop daddy!}

“Who the fuck you calling daddy?!”

“Just when I forget what an absolute lunatic you are you show up to remind me.” Tinman was shaking his head again and Clint's snickering so win-win really, he loves annoying Stark.

“You know I love you Tinman but seriously, why keep me away from Spiderman? I’m like his biggest fan!”

“Yeah, sure but you’re a murder an-”

“You can’t say that to me when you have two- wait is Barnes here? Do you deal with Luke Cage, he’s like hired muscle which is close, what universe is this?- when you have two assassins standing next to you.”

“Deadpool.”

“Gasp! Are you trying to keep me away from Spidey cause he’s underage?! Oh how will I go on with my life knowing that perfect ass belongs to a baby?”

“Wilson.”

“Hey is Falcon here? Then there's  _ two _ Wilsons! And-”

“WADE!” Hunching his shoulders he turns slowly back to the Avengers. Cap and Tinman look like disappointed parents, Natasha’s lips are stuck in an amused pout, while Clint laughs, leaning against Hulk. 

{Nice job idiot.}

[Oh yeah, they’re not letting you  _ anywhere _ near that sweet spider ass.]

“I’m listening for real this time.”

“Wilson,” Cap growls over Clint's mocking laugh, “we are not letting you near Spiderman, you are a career criminal and unstable to boot. We don’t want you prying into his life and causing him trouble. He keeps his identity secret for-”

“Woah, woah! Time out!” Wade threw his arms out in a large ‘T.’ “You think I’d do that to Spidey?! That is so against the Superhero Bro Code! Also rude. I wanna be Spidey’s bro, why would I fuck that up by being a dick about his identity?”

“He has a point Cap.” Clint pipes up, finally having calmed down. “Plus Spider’s gonna run into him on his own eventually, doncha think it’d be better if we just introduce them, then debrief Spiderman on the whole ‘Merc with a Mouth’ thing?”

“The air quotes around my nickname were unnecessary bird boy.” 

“Clint has a point boys.” Natasha threw her elbow up on Cap’s shoulder, which is ridiculous of course, being over a foot shorter. “Deadpool has been pretty good about secret identities in the past and if he stays in New York for longer than a week he’s bound to run into Spiderman all on his own.” 

Stark looks like he was about to start steaming out the ears as he looks between the two assassins and Cap.

{Hey what kills with two asses?}

[you stole that from the Venture Bros]

{Did not!}

Trying his best to ignore the back and forth in his own head Deadpool watches the Avengers interact. Cap has a thoughtful look on his face as Natasha and Clint stand on either side of him.  _ A devil on each shoulder. _ Tinman’s yelling over the two, or trying to.

“Alight Deadpool.” Cap flashes a smile as he drops his arms to the classic hands on hips stance.

“America’s ass.”

“Jesus Chirst Steve, you can’t be serious.”

“Deadpool you get one chance. In a week, at the tower, we’ll introduce you to Spiderman. If he decides you’re alright we won’t stop you from trying to befriend him.”

“Steve!”

“Aw hell yeah! Avengers sanctioned playdate!”

{How did we manage that?}

[I don’t think we did, it was Hawk and Widow.]

“So it was, so it was. Thanks for vouching for me Hawky, Widow. Same time next week? At the A-team club house? You got it, you got it. You bring Spidey and I’ll bring booze.”

“No Deadpool.” Cap’s frowning now and Tinman’s slapping himself in face. “Deadpool no booze.”

“Sure, sure. See you sexy cats next week, gotta blast!”

{Ok, that we stole from Jimmy Neutron.}

  
  


\-----------

  
  


Deadpool’s not going to some playdate to be baby sat by the Avengers. Ok so he totally is. It’s an invite from Captain America himself to the Avenger’s Tower. He’s not passing that shit up, ok? Even if the insinuation that he can’t control himself for five fucking minutes to say “hi, love the ass” to Spiderman is irratating. Wade has a surprisingly long attention span. He was a fucking sniper in the special forces. He can even act like a halfway normal person sometimes. He’s also well aware that the super community hates his guts. Sure, he thinks they’re being big fat hypocrites seventy-five percent of the time but whatever. He doesn’t need people to like him. Wouldn’t believe or accept it if someone did like him anyway. Speaking of liking people, some poor sap up the block is coughing up flowers.

{ooooo, shoot him!}

Shooting that guy would be cool, unfortunately for the next week he has to be a model citizen(or as model as Deadpool can be anyway). He knows that the Spidey playdate is conditional, even when it wasn’t outright stated. So no he can’t kill that guy just because he has Hanahaki. Deadpool doesn’t understand Hanahaki. He’s sure as shit never had it and no one would ever have it for him. To be completely honest Wade’s not sure he can love anymore. All the things he loves these days are inanimate, he loves tacos, explosions, he loves his katanas, but none of those things are alive. Maybe he loves dogs but a dog can’t love you back, not like a person can, and honestly dogs don’t like him much either. 

[No one likes you idiot.]

{You don’t even like yourself!}

Wade will never have Hanahaki because he can’t bring himself to bare himself to another person enough to know them properly, enough to actually love them. It’s the same reason no one will ever get Hanahaki for him. He can't bare himself to another person, can’t let another person  _ see _ him for long enough to know him. You can’t love someone you don’t know. Wade’s never had Hanahaki but knows the basics. Broad Hananhaki is for short lived love, lust, infatuation, childish love, and platonic passions, like intense summer friendships, it's really being in love with a feeling rather than a person. A few flowers, usually just the buds and blooms, normally fades on its own the same way the shallow lust for a crush does. Pinpoint Hanahaki is for the more serious relationships and specific people, long term relationships. Parents and children, mentor and student, lovers, best friends, serious partnerships, these were the cases where more than two flowers appeared at a time, creating a bouquet that described the aspects of the love that seeded the disease. And of course there were acute and chronic cases. Where the disease struck hard and fast, quickly overtaking the patient without surgery and then where the patient lived for years with the plants slowly filling their chest cavity and branching out into their limbs, respectively. Wade had cut up a couple people who had chronic Hanahaki. It looked painful as hell. Of course Hanahaki was only painful if the love was unrequited and unacknowledged, otherwise the plants just live on inside the body more of nuisance than a hazard. 

[It’s a good thing you’ve got your heart all locked up.]

{Yeah! No one would ever return or acknowledge your love.}

[You suck.]

{You can’t even catch Hanahaki yourself! How fucked up is that?}

[You really are the worst kind of shit aren’t you?]

{You think  _ anyone _ would look twice at you? Even in this fucking suit you’re a mess.}

[The worst of the worst. How many people have you hurt?]

{You’ve lost count of how many people you’ve killed, you’re scum.}

[Nothings ever gonna change what you are deep down Wade.]

{Haha! You think that if he did get Hanahaki his toxic insides would kill the plants?}

Wade ducks into a nearby alley to catch his breath, to try to get control over his mind for just a second. He hates thinking about Hanahaki. His mother had had Hanahaki before she died. He never understood. Never understood how she could love his father after all he did to them, when he clearly didn’t love her back. It had been the cancer that had taken her in the end, leaving him alone with his old man. And that was a whole new can of shit that he didn’t like thinking about, thank you very much. 

So he starts ducking from alleyway to alleyway, following the crisscrossing paths of New York’s service passages and back alleys. Hopping over fences and dumpsters he eventually makes it back to his own crap part of town. 

[You really are a masochist huh?]

{You just keep handing us ammo, you like getting bullied?}

[You like it when we hurt your feelings Wade?]

Wade very much does not like when the voices start tearing him a new one every other day. There was only one way to make them stop and he couldn’t even enjoy that properly, being dead and all. He just wanted to eat a meal or have a conversation without the commentary and ass ripping from the voices.

{Yeah right bro, you’re never getting rid of us~}

[Aw, I think he's shaking, angry today are we?]

{Heeeey~ I know something that will make you feel better!}

[Oh, can you guess what it is, dear readers?]

{Badadadada~ that's right, its-}

{[A BULLET TO THE BRAIN!]}

The door nearly comes off the frame as Wade crashes into his shitty apartment. The boxes are chanting in his head as he swings his arm back wildly to shut the door. Yellow switches to singing “Kill Yourself” as White keeps up the chat of “bullet to the brain!” Wade has enough sense to take off his mask while he rushes into the kitchen. Sometimes, sometimes if he can distract them, eat something, lay out his extensive weapons collection, find just the right TV program, the boxes will settle. They stop yelling for just a minute or two. He’s forgotten though, even as he wrenches the fridge door open, that he’s been in New York for two days and has nothing in his fridge. He has his boxes of weapons strewn around the living room and there's some hastily bought cutlery and such on the counter, but there's nothing here that's going to make them stop. 

[Oh, now I don’t know about that.]

{Bullet to the brain! Bullet to the brain! Bullet to the brain! Bullet t-}

[Yellow’s on board, you’re the only one in opposition Wade.]

{Brain! Bullet to the brain!}

[Or you too chicken shit all of a sudden?]

“Please, I didn’t even do anything.”

[Oh didn’t you though?]

Wade doesn’t have time to contemplate what the fuck White is talking about this time because he already has a gun in his hand. And hey, peer pressures a helluva drug, especially when your peers are voices in your head. Over Yellow’s chanting White pipes up.

[Would you get with it a-]

Wade shoves the Glock in his mouth and pulls the trigger. 

\---------------------------------------------------------

“Why isn’t the new tratgrade project in this month's overview?”

Peter has to think for a minute. He’s hunched over his computer in his lab writing the overviews for his section’s projects. Shaking his head he leans away from the computer screen.

“What's a tratgrade?”

Harry’s walking in a sweeping circle around the lab. He glances over every piece of equipment and pokes at the petri dishes laying at each station. Peter frowns because he’s sure that Harry is going to start messing around, acting like he doesn’t know how important the samples are or that he is completely clueless about literally anything that goes in Peter’s R&D section.

“Oh you know, those ugly little tubby bears in the moss.” Because that explains so much.

“Wait, wait, you mean  _ tardigrades _ ? That project isn’t even scheduled to start until next month, we still have to wait for the environments to stabilize and confirm that the new generation has hatched and acclimated. Also Patterson’s frog study is-”

“Woah, Pete calm down, I know the project schedule. Usually you put an overview for upcoming projects, like a mini progress report on the set ups, in the monthly overviews. There isn’t one for the tardigrades, I was only wondering why and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to come drag you out for lunch.”

“Ok, ok.” Peter pinches his nose hard, squeezing his eye shut. He’s been so stressed lately, he should really ask for an assistant, he’s not sure why he hasn’t yet. “Lunch you say? I can do lunch.” 

He’s trying to be light about it but Harry has a soft frown on his face as he holds one arm up to catch Peter in a side hug as he stands. Peter’s chest aches as it always does when he makes people worry. He hates making people worry, the guilt of dragging them down into his quagmire of problems weighs heavy on his shoulders. It’s one of the many reasons he doesn’t tell people about his Hanahaki. Peter has a guilt complex, everything is always his fault. If the moon fell out of the sky Peter could find a way to make it his fault. Hanahaki tends to bring out guilt and pity in the people around the sufferer. Peter can not handle being pitied, being looked on as less than by his peers, his loved ones. Seeing the pity in their eyes if he ever told them would destroy him. Telling them would make them feel guilty about it as well, even when it isn’t their fault. Peter chooses not to control his emotions, chooses to let the flowers grow, to fan the flames of the many unrequited loves he fosters in his chest. He wouldn’t be able to handle the weight of guilt, guilt felt by his loved ones, guilt for making them so upset, the guilt that he just not enough for them. Then there's the chance that they would force him into surgery. Having another Hanahaki surgery would be the last straw, it would without a doubt ruin him. 

Harry takes him out of the building for lunch. They find a diner and find a booth without windows. Harry has the decency to not start grilling Peter until the food is ordered and their drinks are placed in front of them. Of course it's part of the strategy, the waitress won’t be back for a good twenty minutes now, so Harry has plenty of time to start chipping away at Peter’s walls until they crumble and he spills his juicy secrets. They both spend too much time with MJ and it has very different effects on them. All the same, Harry gets to soak up all of MJ’s manipulation tactics and Peter gets her vocab and the makeup tips. 

“Are you doing ok Peter? I know that we kept some of your guys’ projects going a little longer than originally planned and we didn’t didn’t postpone anything after that. We should have, I’m sorry. If you need to pull people from another department or section than you can do that, I can get you-”

“Harry please.” This isn’t what he expected Harry to do. To jump right into the deep end of his emotional spectrum. Harry usually has a more leading approach to talking about feelings, asking questions and letting you talk yourself in circles, spilling all your secrets. Harry isn’t very good at matching his emotional responses to other people’s. It's why he just asks questions, let the other person set the emotional pace of a conversation. He’s not doing that now though. This Has either been bothering Harry for a while or it's about more than Peter being stressed at work. 

“We’ve been bogged down at the lab before, more than we are right now even. Everyone is working hard and no one is behind schedule. I will say that over the last two months I’ve had more paperwork to do, but really it’s no big deal.”

This does not ease the frown on his best friend’s face. Though his mouth doesn’t move his eyebrows draw together creating a deep off centered ridge between them. Peter’s throat rattles as he breaths. 

“Pete. There's no reason for you to take on all the paperwork for your lab section. The number of people you're in charge of has increased lately and I know that you have your own projects that you want to work on. I just want to make sure that everything is running smoothly, that you're not taking on anything you can’t handle. Not crushing yourself under unnecessary weight.” 

Peter’s throat rasps as he takes a deep breath, he can feel the loose petals drifting around in his lungs, brushing the bottom of his airway. A few quick sips of his water, another deep breath, and the cough is staved off for a little while longer.

“Harry, I’m fine. I like work, you know that. Everything is going fine in the lab. The guys down there are great, our joint projects are going well, and I’ve got most of the paperwork nailed down. You don’t have to worry about the numbers, we got it.” 

Apparently this is the wrong thing to say because Harry looks angry now. The look he wears is scandalized, frown showing teeth in more of a sneer, eyes scanning Peter as if checking he’s real.

“I’m not worried about the numbers.” Harry hisses out. Narrowing his eyes and leaning forward. “I’m worried about  _ you _ . I know there's a lot going on right now. You’re worried about your aunt and with the wedding preparations starting up you haven’t had a lot of down time for yourself. We haven’t just hung out in so long Pete, without talking about work or the wedding-” Harry snaps his mouth shut and sits back again. His face is no longer pinched and pleading, his eyes are wide and face is blank. “Oh god. Is this about the wedding? About me and MJ getting married? Pete,” he clears his throat “Peter, you know that neither of us would ever do anything to hurt you on purpose. If you don’t want to be in the wedding, you don’t even have to come if-”

Peter cuts off the rant with a laugh. He can’t help it, he’s never heard something so ridiculous in his life. Peter would never be jealous that his two best friends are making a new life together. He tells Harry as much.

“Harry, I’m not  _ jealous _ , if that's what you think. I mean good god my two best friends are in love, taking a huge step to make a new life together. I’m ecstatic. I mean I don't think I could be happier for you guys, you two get married, make each other happy, and give me god children to spoil. You are going to make me godfather of at least one right?” At this Harry laughs. “I think maybe we should move the wedding date up, so you can hurry up with giving me those kids of yours, aunt May and I will spoil them rotten. And if you pick anyone to take my place as best man I’ll kill you.”

“You won’t have to, MJ will have it covered.”

“Yeah right,” he snorts, partially to clear his airways again “she’d just make me man of honor, I know you two were fighting over who got to have me in their wedding party.” This is what he's good at. Making his loved ones happy, easing their worries. Harry laughs again and they move on to other topics before the food comes out. If Peter goes to the bathroom to nearly cough up a lung before they leave, well. Harry’s none the wiser. Standing the stall, catching his best friend’s bouquet as it falls from his lips, Peter knows he's doomed. He’s not jealous of Harry, or of MJ for that matter. He loves them both, he’s doomed because he’s not sure how he’ll keep his cough under control at the wedding. It's another two years away and the Hanahaki will only grow before then. He cups the flowers in his hands, scanning the blooms, some of them are coming up with whole stems now. Stuffing them into his bag he wipes his mouth and exits to wash his hands. The man that's already standing at the sinks gives him a sad smile through the mirror. Peter just ducks his head and washes his hands. 

Back in his locked office Peter lays his latest bouquet on his desk. Amongst lab write ups, data sheets, MJ’s wedding invitation mockups, samples that need to be rechecked, a few tupperware he’s neglected to take home, a jar of aunt May’s stale cookies, and a hundred other little things that reflect the mess of his life, is Harry’s bouquet. Pine branches, geranium, yellow rose, fir, chives, gladioli, butterfly weed. Tears spring to his eyes as he unlocks his desk drawer to retrieve another note book. As he writes Harry’s latest bouquet down, the cough comes back. Like when in his own apartment he let the flowers fall freely from his mouth. Heather, edelweiss, violet, pink camellia, forget me not. Peter allows himself a minute to cry a little harder. As usual the flowers prove his own feelings for his friend, happy to be used and not loved in return. 

\-----------------------------------------------

When Spiderman hits the streets at night he usually makes a quick loop around the city to show people that he’s out before settling in one area or another to begin truly patrolling for crime. He does the same tonight, sweeping close to Daredevil’s turf to see if his maroon friend is about, alighting briefly on the Baxter Building to wave into the windows, doing the same to Stark tower, and settling himself outside Times square. He does have a sort of schedule as to where he patrols every night, he tries to keep it as random as possible, keep criminals on their toes and all. Tonight though, he abandons that, he wants to look down at the lights, at all the happy people. Some couple is fighting as they walk down the road, the guy coughs up what could be monkshood or stock. Peter cringes under the mask. Taking a moment to actually scan the bustle he spots like thirty people coughing up flowers in under five minutes.  _ Ok, so maybe I won't people watch tonight _ . Spiderman turns away from the bright lights to swing up towards the Bronx. 

Deciding to stop and talk to the girls on 49th was a split second decision. Talking to the lovely working girls is an important part of Spiderman’s job. They know a lot of the gossip of the criminal underground and the general goings on of the city. They also fall under his protection, all the lovely working girls and boys of the city do. It’s important to him that they are kept safe, it’s his job, their his people and he hasn’t had time to stop and talk like he usually does on his patrols. Not with the month closing out at Oscorp and literally everything else over the last two weeks. He feels bad for it of course. Besides his duty to keep the streets clean he likes talking to people and the pros of New York always have something interesting to say. 

It’s not an uncommon occurrence for him to break up fights between Johns and pros, probably happens twice a week. So seeing the small group of women huddling at the mouth of an alley as a guy screams at them doesn’t surprise him. What does surprise him is the tall figure that stands between the opposing forces. Spiderman sticks to the wall above the commotion to assess the situation. Three women are holding each just inside the alley behind a tall, broad shouldered man, who has a gun pointed at the irate John. There is no tingle of his spider sense as he moves down the wall, listening to the “conversation.”

“Look man, be on your merry way and leave these fine ladies alone.” Gesturing with the gun to the street the man holds his position as the spitting John tries to look at the women.

“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business and leave me alone to sort out a deal with one of your ‘fine ladies?’ Huh, pal?” The guys average, kinda greasy, rough around the edges and apparently very stupid because he actually moves to brush past the gunman.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Gunman of course intercepts, putting the gun on the man’s chest and forcing him back. “Very very rude. First of all, these ladies are free agents, don’t belong to no man!” Here he snaps. “Secondly, I believe we were talking, very rude to try and walk out on a conversation.” Gunman actually seems to be getting angry now, as he walks the guy further into the street. Once he’s more in the light Spiderman can see the red and black suit, covered in harnesses, buckles, straps and pouches. Spiderman spies four holstered guns and the dual sheath on his back. High time to intervene, it seems. Spiderman jumps to the opposite wall and shoots web at the gun, pulling it up into grasp before dropping down next to Gunman.

“I have to agree with you, leaving in the middle of a conversation is quite rude, unfortunately so is pointing guns at people. What seems to be the problem boys and girls?” Gunman is gaping at him behind the mask and the John seems more on edge now than before, the girls however are very happy to see him. 

“Spiderman!” The tallest woman, dark skinned and curly haired, breaks away from the huddle to fall into his side. 

“Larisa, what seems to be the trouble?”

“Thank god you showed up, we thought we were gonna witness a murder.”

“Hey!” Gunman shouts “I was never gonna shoot the guy, I’m on probation. Have to be on my best behavior.”

“Right.” Peter isn’t sure how to take that, he just narrows his eyes behind his own mask, turning to the now shaking John. “Why don’t you scurry on home? Next time you decide to harass people you won’t be so lucky.” The John just turns and takes off down the street. Spiderman shakes his head.

“Aw, Spiderman,” He turns in Larisa’s loose hold on his shoulders “ya shoulda knocked his teeth in.” Jovie sways her hips dramatically as she drags the third girl with her.

“Next time Jovie, long time no see ladies and who is this?” The new girl is short but kinda stocky, covered in freckles with her hair in pigtails. 

“Name’s Betty.” The thick southern accent is a little surprising but it puts the frayed denim short shorts and tied up plaid shirt into perspective. “Didn’t think they were serious, ‘bout knowing Spiderman an’ all.”

It's not really surprising, while he doesn’t  _ know _ every pro in the city(not by any means) he’s sure to know a couple in each territory by name and the rest know that he’s safe to go to when they need help. He’s about to open his mouth and say as much when Gunman interrupts.

“Oh yeah! Spidey looks out for the little guys, the underdogs, down on your luck? You know who to call, the Amaaaazing Spiderman!” The man throws his hands parallel to Spiderman’s body as he does the jazz hands. “Big fan by the way.”

Spidey and Gunman end up walking the girls to a McDonalds and grabbing some food. Once the girls are safely deposited back on their corner of choice, varying food items in hand, Spiderman promises to drop by again tomorrow. He’s given the gun back to the man in red and black, who coos over it as he removes the webbing. With a last wave at the girls he walks over to the larger man.

“Hey man,” Spiderman intends to let the guy know that it's really not kosher to be running around threatening people with guns, even if he is grateful for the assist. That isn’t exactly what happens. The other masked man immediately starts talking over him.

“O. M. G. I am so happy I decided to come out tonight! Hey, do you have something that can get these webs of my baby here?” The man shakes the gun. “Or will it just dissolve on its own? Like I said though, so so glad I came out tonight and not just because I got to help three lovely ladies! I get to meet you Spidey-babe! Let me tell you, highlight of the year for sure! I would have said hi yesterday if Mr. America hadn’t given me the third degree. That was a cool fight huh? You didn’t stick around for long after, but I did enjoy seeing you go if ya know what I mean.” The man seems to be wiggling his eyebrows, the white lenses and black patches of the mask move with expression.

“How do you do that with your mask?” Ok, good a place as any to start.

“Good old fashion comic book magic. I’m Deadpool by the way.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not as many flowers this chapter, thanks as always for reading, chapter 4 is in the works!  
> Pine- pity  
> Geranium- stupidity  
> Yellow rose- decrease of love  
> Fir- time  
> Chives- usefulness  
> Gladioli- give me a break  
> Butterfly weed- let me go  
> Heather- admiration  
> Edelweiss- devotion  
> Violet- i'll always be there  
> Pink camellia- longing(please)  
> Forget me not- don't forget me  
> Monkshood- bad tidings  
> Stock- happy life

**Author's Note:**

> um, sorry if this sucks? this is the first thing i've ever "published." so thanks for reading! the next chapter should be out really soon, i dont really have a schedule.... anyway, hope you liked it, i'm still trying to figure parts of this site out, thx!


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